Off the Beaten Path
by dlym
Summary: Hal always knew her powers would get her in trouble and, eventually, they did. She just didn't expect them to win her a get out of jail free card, recruitment into the ever-popular Avengers, and a one-way ticket to romance hell. [Hiatus]
1. Chapter 1

**Seriously, don't search "poop-dot-com."**

 **EDIT: Please note that I've changed Hala's last name (to Madani) after learning that it is actually the name of a Muslim community in North India and Pakistan. Since I originally found it on a website of surnames, I was unaware of its origins. Since Hala does not belong to this community, nor has heritage from there, I see it best to change her name to avoid offense or cultural appropriation of the Darzi peoples.**

 **I do not own Marvel.**

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"Hala 'Hal' Madani," former SHIELD Agent Maria Hill says her name, tossing an open file on the table in front of her. Glancing down at the old-school ink and paper file, Hal sees her mugshots clipped to the front, along with other basic information. She returns her gaze to the older woman, crossing her arms under her chest as Hill continues. "Arrested for one-hundred and twenty-two accounts of identity theft and the illegal electronic transferal of nearly one billion dollars."

"Don't forget the one for assault," Hal pipes up.

Hill's face twists into a wry smile. "Yes, the one charge of physical assault on the agent who tried to arrest you."

"And failed."

"And yet, here you are, in federal prison," Hill states with an edge of steel.

"Yeah," Hal scoffs, rolling her eyes, "only 'cause you sicced your precious, little Avengers on me. I'd be on a beach in Chile right now if Stark hadn't blasted me in the ass with a laser."

The agent sighs deeply and takes a seat across from her. Hala is unperturbed by Hill's obvious irritation; in fact, at this point, she'd say she lives for it. Their monthly check-ups have become something she looks forward to, watching Hill's eyebrows knit together and her lips purse whenever Hal misdirects the conversation, or talks so much that Hill can't get a word in edgewise. It's almost like discovering the internet all over again, but with one less search of "poop-dot-com."

Hal wonders how Hill hasn't yet given up on recruiting her into the Avengers, or SHIELD, or whatever organization she's working for now.

Regardless, this month's visit is extremely entertaining, as recent events already have Hill tremendously stressed. From what she's heard the guards talking about – since your access to technology is restricted to pencil and paper – there's some big baddie named Ultron flying around causing harm. It's old hat considering the fact that the Avengers stopped a race of space worms led by an actual Norse god, which is why Hal supposes Hill's actually present here, instead of aiding the rest with Ultron's takedown. She can imagine that, even without a helicarrier and some baldy with an eyepatch, the so-called world's greatest heroes will have no problem taking this person down.

"Look, I'm going to cut to the chase because the longer I sit here chatting with you, the more people are going to die; the Avengers need your help."

And, of course, she thinks too soon. Hal's eyes are practically bulging out of her sockets at these words. Not "they want," but "they _need_ ," as in former SHIELD Agent Maria Hill has to _beg_ for her help. No longer is she merely trying to goad Hala into reforming and using her powers for the greater good. No, they won't succeed without her – at least, not without some astronomical amount of damage. Meaning that there is most definitely something in it for her.

"Oh? And what do I get in return? A pat on the back from good, ol' Captain America? Or a thank you card from Director Fury himself?" Hal clasps her hands and flutters her eyelashes, as if in rapture over the prospect of either reward.

Hill practically has to force the next few sentences out of her mouth. "All charges will be forgiven, your life sentence terminated, and only six months' probation." Hal almost hollers with laughter at such an ironic twist of fate, but Hill throws her hand up to silence her before she can even chuckle. " _On the condition_ that you agree to join the Avengers initiative and abide by their laws."

"Aw, what? That's fuckin' lame!" Hal's hands fall heavily into her lap. "What if I don't agree?"

"Well, then you won't get out of prison and it's highly likely you'll die in a fiery explosion when Ultron destroys the earth." There's a brief moment of silence. "Or whatever he's planning."

 _That's_ why they need her. They don't even know what he's on about, so they want Hal to hack his shit and find out. But, damn, she thought she was the one with the upper hand. Now she has the ultimatum of joining the Avengers, or possibly dying in a scratchy orange jumpsuit with an unsatisfying meal of beans and rice in her stomach. Okay, so not much of a choice, but she doesn't want to join the Avengers. She just wants to take care of her parents and move to the most remote location on earth where no one but internet trolls can bother her again.

However, the thought of the parents makes the decision for her.

"I'll agree," Hal all but groans. "But I want my parents to be safe and supported."

"Already done."

Hill immediately stands and motions to the guards. The two uniformed men step forward, one holding her by the shoulders while the other unlocks her wrists from the handcuffs and her feet from the shackles on the chair. Then, surprisingly, they step away from Hal, folding their hands behind their backs. She looks down at her bare wrists, then over at Hill.

"You're serious about this?" Hala asks, still in disbelief.

"Completely." Hill turns, opens the door, and gestures for Hal to go first. "Now, hurry up; we've got a plane to catch."

"What? We're going _now_? I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye to my friends."

"Do you really want to stay her for longer than necessary?"

"Hell, no. Let's get the fuck outta here."


	2. Chapter 2

**EDIT: Please note that I've changed Hala's last name after learning that it is actually the name of a Muslim community in North India and Pakistan. Since I originally found it on a website of surnames, I was unaware of its origins. Since Hala does not belong to this community, nor has heritage from there, I see it best to change her name to avoid offense or cultural appropriation of the Darzi peoples.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel, the Avengers, or...anything, really.**

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Hal forgot what sweatpants feel like; she nearly bursts into tears in the bathroom after slipping into a pair of soft, black joggers. For three years she was forced into prison jumpsuits of varying degrees of orange, all of which did nothing to accentuate her features and, in fact, made her look more like a pumpkin than a person. To feel something besides that potato sack of a uniform scratching across her skin is nothing less than a miracle. Hal takes a minute to praise the powers that be. However, a sudden bout of turbulence reminds her that she's running on borrowed time and that, if this jet does crash, she does _not_ want to be in the bathroom when it happens.

Hal rummages through the bag of clothes and toiletries that Hill brought her - apparently packed by her parents before other government officials escorted them into protection. She pushes the many _chadors_ and _hijabs_ to the side, pulling out a plain tank top and a thin jacket. After a turn or two in the mirror, she concludes that these clothes aren't even ideal for confronting the convenience store, much less a homicidal robot. But beggars can't be choosers.

Hal then quickly combs through her hair, throws it all up in a half-assed bun, and shoves her feet into a pair of dark sneakers. She nearly leaves it at that, but thinks better of it and takes another couple of minutes to brush her teeth and wash her face.

Let it be known that, though she may be stubborn and vulgar, Hal is nothing short of hygienic.

She exits the restroom with the duffel bag slung over her shoulder, dropping it next to her seat before dropping her own ass along with it. Hill is speaking urgently on the phone with Tony Stark, judging by the aggravation in her voice and the repetitive, exasperated sighing of his name. Hill keeps telling him that they need to wait until she and Hal arrive, though, apparently, Stark refuses to do so. He keeps saying something about a body and not needing "some little girl's help" and Hill nearly has to shout over him.

Prickling at his words, Hal strides over and stops next to Hill, reaching out with her powers to the phone pressed to the woman's ear. The technology responds immediately to her mental commands, switching to speaker, which nearly deafens the poor woman holding it.

"Well, Stark, I don't wanna work with an old fart like you, but my hands are tied," Hal drawls. Hill glares at the young woman, but holds the phone out to allow her easier communication. And to save her eardrums. "So, I suggest we suck it up and deal with it until this fuckin' problem is solved. Capisce? Capisce."

Hal hangs up the phone with a blink, and then continues down the aisle to the tiny kitchenette in the back of the airplane. Hill's cellular rings almost instantly afterward and Hal can hear Tony squawking in indignation over the line. She huffs as she makes herself a cup of tea, attempting to calm down before they land and she has to deal with his jerkass first hand. Thankfully, Hill ends the conversation to prevent any more social damage from occurring between the two.

Hal opens her mouth to speak, specifically a few choice words about a certain Stark, but Hill's massive sigh stops her from doing so. "Look, Hala, we're not asking you to fraternize with them, just that you tolerate everyone and do your part as a member of the Avengers."

"I'm normally partially likeable." She frowns, hiding her apprehension behind the curve of her paper cup. "Sorry a few in the brig's made me a bit salty."

"Don't do the crime if you can't do the time," Hill states plainly.

"You know I hate that saying."

"I know."

Hal sits on the bench underneath a bank of windows. She peers through a porthole and watches the clouds drift over cities and townships hundreds of thousands of miles beneath them. The tall, wispy figures shift with the wind, puttering along without a care in the world. Not that clouds _can_ have cares, but still. They're obviously in better spirits than Hal.

She takes a sip of her steaming tea and winces at the taste; green tea is always better cold. Anyone who says otherwise has no taste buds.

Speaking of people with no taste, her thoughts return to her very brief vocal encounter with Tony Stark, renowned superhero and apparent whiney baby. He's obviously not too thrilled with her addition to the team, especially not so late in the game. The others will no doubt act similarly towards their old adversary – with disgust and mistrust. It wouldn't be the first time someone's directed such looks her way.

Of course, Stark's ego is only second to his Iron Man persona, so it could be that he feels insulted by Hal's addition to the team. After all, why do they need an electronics expert when they already have one? However, she supposes being able to hack into and control technology with a simple thought is a bit different, a bit quicker, and a bit harder to block. Not to mention the use they could gain from her out on the battlefield, seeing as most arms dealers today digitize their weapons in some way.

And right now? Up against an _AI_ and his army of _robots_? She could tear them apart if she so chooses.

Hal sighs, her breath fogging up the cool glass. The Avengers are just lucky they don't work for SHIELD anymore. If they had, she would've refused them on the spot, global destruction or no. She doesn't owe SHIELD anything. They're the ones that owe her a repulsor ray to the buttocks and three years of her life back.

In addition, why the fuck do the Avengers even "need" her, as they so claim? Sure, she could help things smooth over a bit faster, but will the world _really_ be destroyed if she doesn't pick Ultron's brain a bit? She can't imagine so. If they're so into protecting the people and the greater good, why the hell didn't they stop this from happening in the first place? Apparently, because Stark wanted to let someone else handle his hero-ing duties and beguiled the big, green science nerd into keeping it a secret. Yeah, secrets are a real concrete foundation for a superhero organization, no two ways about it.

Whatever the case, Hal decides that the only reason she's agreed is that, one, she's free and, two, her parents are safe from harm. Now all she has to do is outlast her usefulness, have them kick her off the team, and it'll be easy going from then on out. Her head thumps against the window.

They'd be smart not to trust her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, all. Thanks for the support so far, it's greatly appreciated! Here's the next chapter, wherein we see Hal's first interactions with the team. Well, she's met some of them before, but, it's their first interactions seen in the story so far.**

 **Also, it's really hard to write computer stuff from a mental POV? Like, how do you describe the feel of computers without getting to Tron-y? It's more difficult than I expected.**

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 **EDIT: Please note that I've changed Hala's last name (to Madani) after learning that it is actually the name of a Muslim community in North India and Pakistan. Since I originally found it on a website of surnames, I was unaware of its origins. Since Hala does not belong to this community, nor has heritage from there, I see it best to change her name to avoid offense or cultural appropriation of the Darzi peoples.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my own characters.**

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The jet lands at Teterboro Airport in New York City at twelve thirty-three in the morning. A private car picks them up straight from the tarmac and they're soon on their way to Stark Tower. Despite its fancy, black exterior, the car is all business and no party, as Hal finds no secret stash of alcohol. Figures.

She sits with her arms crossed and back rigid, chewing her lip in obvious turmoil. Halfway there, she taps into the car's digital display, switching between channels to see what the kids are listening to nowadays. A few new pop songs catch her interest, though nothing seems able to calm her frayed nerves. Hal keeps reminding herself that this is for her own good and for the good of her family.

Hill, noticing her distress, awkwardly clears her throat.

"You don't have to worry about them," she says, eyeing the younger woman across the way. "They've already agreed to let bygones be bygones. I assure you they won't…purposefully harm you."

This genuinely makes Hal laugh. "I'm actually worried they'll like me _too_ much, what with my sparkling disposition and all. It'll make parting that much more difficult."

"'Parting?' You plan on going somewhere after this?" Hill suddenly becomes edgy, as if Hal would actually attack her.

"I wasn't a criminal because I worked well with others, Hill. It's likely I'll be out before we've even sacked Ultron," Hal explains.

"Then don't be so confrontational," Hill says, as if it's as simple as one-two-three.

"Yeah," Hal scoffs and rolls her eyes, "just let me turn off my personality, then."

"That's the ticket."

"You are _so_ sassy today."

They pull into a private, underground parking lot at the base of Stark Tower. Hal steps out of the car, marveling at the cool interior before casually strolling along behind Hill's brisk pace. The agent-turned-superhero nanny types a code into a hidden panel beside the elevator controls, which Hal assumes gives them access to the penthouse. After a quick check for herself – because, yes, she _is_ suspicious and mistrustful and _proud_ – she proves this theory correct. Another quick check also reveals that there is, in fact, a function to regulate the elevator music.

Stark, despite his bad taste in everything else, has a decent taste in music and the silent ride up sixty floors becomes much more interesting with Nicki Minaj blasting the whole way. Hill appears exhausted, but the song _is_ catchy and she can't help smiling at the small bit of normalcy in an otherwise fucked-up day. Hal herself can't believe that, not two hours ago, she was sitting in a federal prison in Chicago, waiting to rot on a life sentence. Now she's in an elevator in Stark Tower listening to electropop with Maria Hill, officially an Avenger, and about to assist in saving the world.

The doors open before Hal can ruminate on the magical prowess of a New York minute.

Tony Stark and Dr. Bruce Banner immediately assault the women with an argument over some metallic coffin. Hal rolls her eyes and casually strolls up to the strange machine, while Hill struts over to the men to get the down low. Shielding her eyes with cupped hands, Hal presses her face to the foggy glass, surprised at the fleshy, human figure inside. Well, humanlike; she's yet to meet someone with black and crimson skin.

"So, wait," Hal interrupts, drawing everyone's attention as she tries to remember Hill's briefing on the jet ride here. "Ultron's consciousness is almost completely uploaded into this…guy here. Right?"

"Yes," Hill states plainly.

"Is this the girl?" Bruce asks, apparently just noticing Hal's presence.

"Unfortunately," Stark mumbles.

" _Woman,_ thanks, and I can talk just fine, Jolly Green Giant, so direct your questions about me _to_ me." Bruce frowns, Stark rolls his eyes, and Hill rubs her forehead with one hand. She appears on tenterhooks as Hal crosses her arms and jerks her head down towards the pod. "Anyway, does that mean that Ultron is still connected to this body? Like through electronic channels?"

"In a sense," Stark grits out. "But it doesn't matter, because I've nearly finished the upload with JARVIS, instead."

Hal groans and taps into the holo-display that Stark approaches, moving it just out of his reach. "Hold your horses, Stark. Let me track him down and fuck him up first."

" _Why_ would I do that when we can just have his body do it for us?" He lunges for the display, only to have Hal whip it to the other side of the room.

"Because the last time you uploaded some shit you had no clue about, you started this whole mess."

"FRIDAY," he calls, "block her, now."

 _"I cannot detect any foreign presences,"_ the AI replies. Stark appears stunned at this revelation. _"It appears as though the system itself is malfunctioning."_

"Then, reset the system," Stark commands, flustered.

 _"I cannot._ She _is blocking_ me _."_

Bruce, evidently fascinated by these happenings, steps closer to the railing, nudging his glasses up with one finger as he gets a closer look. "How are you doing that?" he questions.

"Cybernetic enhancements," is her vague response. Hal smirks, twirling the display around in lazy circles. Stark glares at her from across the room. He looks on the verge of committing murder, which only serves to amuse Hal further. "Now, are you gonna listen to my idea, Stark, or do we have to do this the hard way?"

Before he can reply, Captain America (aka Steve Rogers, aka a big nerd) storms into the room with two more in tow. He sees the spinning display, Hal standing beside the pod, and the other three on the upper landing. Clearly not a normal scene if his look of confusion is anything to go by.

"What's going on?" he demands.

One of the two with him, the woman of the group, moves forward. "What are you going to do with that body?"

The other, a man with pale hair, moves to stand alongside her. "We need to destroy it."

"Why is _everyone_ against me today?" Stark mutters angrily.

While Hal is distracted sizing up the three newcomers, he hurries over to the holo-display typing in something that transmits too fast for Hal to stop. She yelps, relinquishing control of the display as she attempts to halt the process from affecting the pod. However, it appears that once the activation sequence starts, she can't shut it down until it's fully operational. Whatever, that's unimportant. What's important right now is finding Ultron and messing with him before that connection is lost. She delves into the body's cybernetics, poking around, searching for a brain, or some kind of cortex that could allow her access to –

"What the fuck?!" Hal cries, returning to herself all at once.

Hill perks up at this, having been conversing anxiously with Bruce up until then. "Hala, what is it?"

"Something…." She eyes the pod with newly found apprehension. "…pushed _back."_

Hal has poked around in an AI's brain before – it's one of her favorite pastimes, in fact, but that was…different. There is something _organic_ in there. Like an artificially organic thought process inside of an organic brain. She wonders – with a good dose of skepticism and a dash of sarcasm, of course – if she's just touched something's soul. Unlikely, though now she has yet another terrifying notion to keep her up at night.

When she returns to the present, Rogers and Stark are busy arguing, as that seems all anyone's interested in doing at the moment. And here Hal was thinking that she's joined an organization that actually has their shit together. She mentally laughs at the thought now (meanwhile attempting to shake off that strange feeling that _something else is in_ there) seeing as they can barely stand one another. Bruce shakes his head in dismay and trudges over to intercept the fight, when the unnamed man decides he's had enough waiting around.

In a flash of silvery-blue, the man speeds around the perimeter of the pod, yanking out every cord attached to the machine. The process starts to power down and a few charts on the display begin flashing red and beeping frantically. He stands on the side of the pod directly opposite Hal, a victorious smile on his face. His triumph is short-lived, however, when the glass floor beneath him abruptly explodes outward.

Oh, wait. Hal's standing on that floor, too.

She shrieks for the third time in five minutes, barely having time to jump away before she falls to the floor below. A sixth person, the guy with arrows (his codename was Goldeneye, or something, right?) stands there.

"What? You didn't see that coming?" he cheekily inquires of the speedy young man.

Hal doesn't it find it nearly as amusing. "Watch who you're shooting at, Robin Hood!"

"Who's that?"

"Your death if you keep it up."

Not two seconds later, more shattering glass alerts Hal to another unnecessarily violent entry. She slams her back against the wall when some blonde muscle head flies into the room by way of hammer. Yeah, that's right. A goddamn hammer. Hal watches with unbridled bewilderment as Thor (aka the God of Thunder and resident cape enthusiast) calls forth a bolt of lightning, seemingly emanating from his magical mallet.

The lightning strikes the coffin with a mighty roar of thunder, wind ripping through the penthouse as if a tropical storm decided to drop by for an evening round of Monopoly. Except this wind is vicious as _hell_ when it comes to buying up every property on Boardwalk. The gale pulls her hair out of its already messy up-do. Several dark strands escape their constraints and fly straight into her mouth, as if their mission is to suffocate her personally. She sputters, yanking the locks out the way and holds them away from her face with both hands. Maybe she _should_ have worn a _chador._

Nearly a full thirty seconds of indoor storming later and the effects show ends, leaving in a flurry, just as it had come. Hal, frustrated, ruffled, and unsettled, screws her face up in anger. Her mouth drops open, ready to rip the blondie a new one, when the lid of the pod suddenly bursts outward. The body practically ejects along with it and rams into Thor. Whomever the black and red dude is, he certainly has the right idea.

Thor tussles with the tank-born briefly, tumbling off to the side as the figure shoots forward, which is, of course, when Hal notices quite an important detail.

"Good _grief,_ he's naked!"

Were this not so serious a moment, she's sure someone would have laughed, or at least gotten the reference, though she almost swears speedy cracks a grin. As it is, the rest of the Avengers dutifully ignore her as they rush after the apparent nudist. Hal takes the time to retie her hair – properly, this time – and carefully steps around the mess of broken glass to watch the proceedings from the upper landing.

The naked, flying dude nearly propels himself through the front window, but stops just prior to collision. Saves many people above and below a headache, at least. The others begin talking to him, he morphs himself to accommodate clothes somehow (thank god), and Hal loses interest halfway through the conversation. She came here to stop a baddie, not sit on her hands as Captain Ladybug preaches into the wee hours of the morning.

Hal returns to the holo-display, synchronizing with it physically before delving into the internet. She managed to catch onto a particular signature while poking around in the cyborg's mind. It wasn't anything special, per se, as it was quite the weak signal, but it was different and caught Hal's attention. She likes to think she knows code quite well by now, if not just the feel of it, and this specific bit of code is unlike anything she's ever come across. She'd even venture to say that it's not even human.

Which would make sense considering Ultron's consciousness came out of an alien stone inlaid into an alien scepter from the hands of an alien god who used to summon aliens. Hal shakes away her self-deprecating thoughts in favor of focusing on the task at hand; namely finding Ultron in the mess that is the internet. She surfs through all the most popular websites where things like this could easily go unnoticed under the mounds of social media heaped everywhere. However, nothing catches her attention as she swerves past several controversial forums, blogs full of memes, and several sites full of bad poetry.

After a few minutes of random, fruitless searching, she decides on a strategic approach. Tony Stark created Ultron, which means he has a horrible sense of humor and is a horrible being in general; this much is already obvious. However, Hill also mentioned that the Avengers heard him singing song from Pinocchio during their first encounter. The sick fuck. Considering all these facts, she begins her search anew, this time with the filter 'Disney's Pinocchio.'

Tons upon tons of Disney-themed blogs turn up empty-handed, thousands of online videos are useless, disappointing fanfiction proves relatively disturbing, online games temporarily distract her, and the RP forums are unimpressive. It's as she's searching through an old Pinocchio discussion thread – ten years dead – that she finds it. A comment on a comment's comment's comment, the very simple phrase, _"I've got no strings on me."_ The profile picture is blank, as are most in this ghost town of a forum, but the stats underneath the profile pic claims that this is the user's first and only post, and that it was made fairly recently. Further inspection into the commenter's profile and she hits the jackpot.

Ultron's special code is compressed and hidden in the color code for the profile. This is his access point.

"Got it," she says aloud, over her shoulder, eyes focused though not seeing.

"Got what?" Stark calls back. Footsteps crunching over glass alert her to the approach of the others.

Hal rolls her eyes at Stark's comment. "A date this Saturday with Brad Pitt – the fuck do you think? I found Ultron's in."

"His in?" Rogers questions. Computers still baffle the poor, old man. "As in, his entrance?"

"Yes, sort of," she concedes. "It's how he's keeping connected to the internet _and_ it's how I'm going to blow his ass up from here."

"So, are you saying we made this guy," she assumes Bruce is gesturing towards tall, dark, and red, "for nothing?"

"No, he is needed." Thor nearly startles her out her skin with his close proximity. Alien gods evidently have no personal boundaries. "He was an important figure in my vision."

"Perhaps he's just not needed right at this moment," Hill offers.

Hal picks the code apart until she can finds his IP address and slips into Ultron's…well, brain, essentially. The moment she gets in, she nearly loses herself in the flood of information. His memory bank splits into thousands of separate physical bodies, each taking in its surroundings and relaying that information back to the hive mind, not to mention all the information speeding towards the separate units controlling them.

"Christ on a cracker, he's got like a thousand isolated units." She picks the closest process and follows it to the physical controls of the unit. It is staring down at another robot husk, apparently in the process of building it. Moving her neck around, she follows the curves of the stone walls as they converge at a single point in the high ceilings above her. She moves 'her' arm up, mesmerized as she watches the robot's fingers twitch in synch with hers. "This is so fuckin' cool."

"Do you have control of him?" Stark asks anxiously.

"No," Hal replies honestly, searching through the list of console commands available to her. "Just one of the individual bodies. But I can still do some damage with it. Aha! Self-destruct initiated."

 _"What?"_

The unit responds almost immediately, exploding in a flurry of electronic sparks and molten shrapnel. The sudden disconnection forces Hal back to the main database. She laughs to herself joyously, watching the detonation from the feedback received by the bots around it. The explosion catches several other units with its devastating force and Hal tallies up a lovely nine destroyed or disabled robots.

"Hala," Hill says urgently from Hal's other side, "what did you do?"

"I just caused a little mayhem is all. Nothing too – uh-oh."

"Uh-oh?" Bruce is getting more edgy by the minute. "What's uh-oh?"

A sudden looming force makes itself known, pressing against Hal's own consciousness, and Hal backs out without second thought. The already hectic stream of information becomes even more convoluted as anti-viral software activates and begins cleansing the system. "Ultron knows I'm here."

"Well, _duh!_ " Stark comes up beside her and starts messing with the display. "One of his units just 'malfunctioned;' he's going to be looking for a virus."

"What will happen if he catches you?" the thickly accented woman from before interjects.

Hal shrugs distractedly. Ultron's making her escape harder than need be, setting up firewalls at random intervals, which she has to take her time to pick around. "Nothing much. All he can do is force me out, really. Unfortunately, if he does that, he'll be able to find us."

"Shit," Stark breathes. "I'm going to quarantine this display. Once you're out, tell me so I can cut off the internet connection."

"Right-o, Tin Man."

Surprisingly, Stark doesn't rise to the bait. However, Hal wouldn't be able to spare much concentration to retort if he did. She bursts through the last firewall without avoiding it, using all of her concentration to dismantle the wall's coding piece by piece, surprisingly faster than carefully attempting to go around it. Unfortunately, something comes along with it, zapping her brain as she removes herself from Ultron's system completely.

Hal jumps away from the display, clutching her head. Her leg twitches so violently that it nearly collapses out from under her. "Shit, shit, shit!"

"What is it? What's wrong?" Maria Hill grasps Hal by the shoulders to keep her steady. "Did Ultron do something to you?"

Bruce, ever the biologist, hurries forward to shine a handheld flashlight in either of her eyes. The light irritates her further and she slaps him away, consequently jostling Hill, who loses her grip. Hal drops to the floor under a bum leg while the rest of her left side begins convulsing, as well.

"It-It's a bug," Hal manages to push the words out of half-operational lips. Another round of tremors rolls through her, causing her left arm to jerk out and bang against the railing. " _Ow!_ "

"Do you have something to get rid of it?" Bruce asks, grabbing her upper arms from behind her while Hill kneels to keep her legs still.

"Ye-Yeah, Green Bean, it's c-c-called anti-malware." The muscles in Hal's neck begin to seize, pulling her head sharply to the left. "It t-takes a minute to kick – to kick – to kick in."

" _Green Bean_?" Stark stifles a laugh as he fiddles with the computers. Hal closes her eyes, trying to focus on purging her cybernetics of whatever foreign agent tagged along with her escape. Also, looking at Stark's smug face as he talks is pissing her off. "You know, I thought you'd be a total wet blanket, but you're beginning to grow on me."

"Shut your trap, Stark."

"Of course, she says _that_ without stuttering."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, all! Thanks for the follows, favorites, and reviews! I've taken the liberty of answering a couple before this chapter, so make sure you take a peek. If there's any questions you have about Hala, or the story in general, I'll be happy to answer (so long as it doesn't spoil anything, of course).**

 **First, official meeting with the twins! It's short and not exactly friendly, but what else did you expect from Hal? ;)**

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 **CallMeSoldier: Hala will most definitely stay out of the reaches of Mary-Sue-dom for as long as I live. If ever it seems she's drifting into it, slap some sense into my please, lol. Tony and Hal's "rivalry" will definitely play a big part of this story, as neither is very fond of the other for various reasons. Doubtless we will see more of it in the future.**

 **Jules: lmao, that's the idea. She's not without her flaws, so maybe we'll see some development in this aspect of her personality, yeah? ;)**

 **daisesinthepages: Oh, I doubt she's perfect, but I'm glad you think so! YASSS it really bakes my beans when every OC is like "her/his pale skin" and I'm just like "WHY IS EVERYONE WHITE." Specifically, Hal's parents came from southern Iran, so she's got a bit of that Persian influence as well. I was so worried that she was being _too_ overbearing, so its a relief to hear that her personality doesn't seem forced. Tbh, I'm just BS-ing most of the computer stuff; like I know a bit, but describing the _feel_ of computer processes is really different. So I'm glad that you like their execution, lol. You're right, tho, about the Thor thing. My initial reasoning for it was that she was already in prison when the first Avengers movie happened, so she was unaware of Thor. But, then again, Thor was around doing other stuff in his own movies beforehand, so she would doubtless know about him. Thanks for pointing out; I'll have to change that!**

 **Thanks to everyone that reviewed!**

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 **EDIT: Please note that I've changed Hala's last name (to Madani) after learning that it is actually the name of a Muslim community in North India and Pakistan. Since I originally found it on a website of surnames, I was unaware of its origins. Since Hala does not belong to this community, nor has heritage from there, I see it best to change her name to avoid offense or cultural appropriation of the Darzi peoples.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel, the Avengers, or...anything, really.**

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Twenty minutes later finds Hal draped haphazardly over a couch, scrolling through various social media on her new, Avengers-issued smartwatch. Her guards stopped updating her on the goings-on in the digital world two years ago, when the older of the two scolded his young partner for associating with "the enemy." She short-circuited his watch for that one and later found out that his superiors disciplined him for being late to a meeting. Bet that asshole will be surprised next time he sees her on TV, this time fighting alongside the Avengers.

Glancing up briefly from her new device, she watches the others flit about the penthouse; some are discussing details of The Plan as they prepare to leave, others are washing up or changing, and others are speaking quietly on their cellphones at random points about the apartment. Hal isn't sure what all the fuss is about, anyway. They know where Ultron is, she gave them an approximate amount of his units, and they have, like, nine super powered or enhanced individuals ready to fight. Ultron may have a shit ton of minions, but they're all running off the same server, which means they'll be harder to control on a separate, minuscule level. Even this slight disadvantage will give them the leeway they need to win this battle.

Therefore, Hal takes this time to relax, instead of stressing herself out with unneeded worry. Or, at least, she would be, if Momma Hill would leave her alone.

"Hala, what are you doing?" the woman asks, pausing on her way across the living room.

Hal internally groans, though outwardly keeps her cool, hoping her aloof attitude will defer Hill's attempts at conversation. "Just waiting to leave. Have you seen these fuckin' 3D printers? That's some cool shit."

Hill scoffs. "You are not going into that battle in sweatpants and a jacket."

"That float-y guy isn't even wearing _real_ clothes," Hal protests. "It's just made from his own skin."

"Well, can _you_ make armor from _your_ own skin?" When Hal says nothing, Hill crosses her arms, hooking one thumb over her shoulder. "Down the hall, to the left; Natasha and Clint keep a bunch of outfits here for espionage purposes, and I'm sure they wouldn't mind if you borrowed some."

Hal sighs and gets to her feet. "Fine. Let me change into _more_ useless clothes."

"The heavier material is interwoven with bulletproof fibers."

"...okay, _slightly less_ useless clothes."

She trots down the hall, dodging alien gods and men in tights, before reaching the designated room. Of course, she assumes this is the designated room, as doors line both the left and right sides of this hall, and perhaps Hill was assuming Hala would come from the opposite direction – so who really knows. Hal opens the door a little more aggressively than she meant to, startling the two already inside: the man with pale hair and the woman, both with matching accents. The Sokovian foreigners.

The man is halfway through removing his shirt, while the woman is still perusing the wide selection. Hal pauses awkwardly in the doorway and they stare back, equally as weird. She scratches her cheek. "Uh...this is the room with the clothes, right?"

The woman makes eye contact with her male companion, and then they both return their gazes to Hal. "...yes."

"Oh, good." Hal strides into the room, passing the shirtless man without a care and scrutinizing her options. "I need some stuff because apparently sweats aren't battle-worthy attire."

"They are a bit...casual," the woman replies, albeit reluctantly.

They're obviously not very trusting of this group – as they have every right to be – and Hal can't help feeling similarly. Even though she's officially part of the Avengers, she doesn't necessarily feel attached to the assemblage; she trusts them not to outright stab her in the back, but that doesn't mean they wouldn't conveniently ignore her if she calls for back up. Of course, Hal doesn't actually trust anyone, so she could say the same about many people she knows.

"Yeah, but they make me look effortlessly fabulous." Hal opens a drawer, grabbing the first top that she sees - one of the thick, apparently bulletproof tops with a gray torso, gray forearms, and black sleeves. She holds it up to her body. "What do you think about this?"

The two blink at her as if she's just grown an extra head. Apparently, they've never engaged in casual conversation with any of the Avengers. Typical. Seems everyone here is adamant about being as un-fun as possible. Hal just holds the garment in place, tilting the hanger from side to side expectantly as she waits for an answer. The woman's mouth opens and closes multiple times before she decides on a nod.

"It's...nice," she allows. The man merely rolls his eyes, continuing to peruse the shirts in his size. Hal ignores him.

"Okay, then I'll take this and..." Her eyes land on a pair of matching pants. She scoops them up. "These. That should be enough to appease Hill. I swear she's like my mother." They don't really react, merely going about her business and Hal sighs, easily becoming annoyed, despite the fact that she can empathize with their reluctance. She grips her new clothes tightly in one hand, trudging toward the door to find a place to change, her tone clipped. "Alright, see you later."

A faint, brief, headache-like sensation accompanies the woman's voice. Hal quickly realizes the woman just read her mind. Or, at least, her emotions. "You are...Hal, yes?"

"Hala Madani, at your service," Hal confirms, turning on her heel to face them. "But just Hal is fine."

"I'm Wanda Maximoff and this is my brother -"

"Pietro," afore mentioned sibling interrupts. He eyes Hal suspiciously and she returns the gesture. Seeing this, Pietro apparently decides to voice his thoughts. "You were very rude to the others; why are you being nice to us?"

His sister whispers his name in warning, as if chastising him for insinuating Hal having ulterior motives. Hal merely laughs, crossing her arms. "Well, simply put, the Avengers kicked my ass and got me sentenced to life in prison. I kind of have a grudge against them. You two, however, have yet to slight me, so I'll give you the benefit of the doubt."

Pietro doesn't respond to this other than eyeing her further and Hal allows him to express his apprehension freely. Wanda stands in the background, biting her lip while she awaits her brother's reaction. He merely huffs, turning back to the new article of clothing in his hands. Hal's eyes drift to the garment, as well, and she notices it's light-colored, spandex fabric. Clearly not very protective.

Without saying a word, she walks over, takes the shirt from his hand, and tosses it back into the drawer from whence it came. Then she digs through the rest and pulls out a navy blue top with similar fabric to her own. She shoves this into his hands with the simple explanation of, "Bulletproof."

She closes the door behind her without a care for either of their reactions. Let them think her cool and mysterious. For however long that lasts.


	5. Chapter 5

**Another chapter! A bit more character building, and some heavier stuff at the end. A little peek into her past. And, yes, this story will be exposing some horrors and effects of racism, anti-Iranian sentiments, and other such topics.**

 **On an unrelated note,** **I've updated my profile with some junk about me and a physical description of Hala. Any and all news about my stories will be posted there from now on. I'll alert you via author's note when something new has come up. :)**

 **Also! PLEASE NOTE that I've changed Hala's last name (to Madani) after learning that it is actually the name of a Muslim community in North India and Pakistan. Since I originally found it on a website of surnames, I was unaware of its origins. Since Hala does not belong to this community, nor has heritage from there, I see it best to change her name to avoid offense or cultural appropriation of the Darzi peoples.**

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 **wickedgrl123: I've updated my profile with a physical description of Hala. I don't generally give out physical descriptions word for word, because I like to encourage my readers to imagine up their own face for the character, but I'm happy to provide my face canon for her. :)**

 **Thanks to all those who followed, favorited, and reviewed!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel, the Avengers, or...anything really.**

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Hal finds an unoccupied bathroom and locks herself inside. She spreads the outfit on the counter before her, surveying the tight-fitting ensemble with a hint of trepidation. Though she knows she's attractive and has confidence in her appearance, she's not one-hundred percent positive she can pull this off. Companies don't design clothes like these with short, stocky people in mind, so it may just make her look like a rumpled mess and end up tripping her in the heat of combat. However, she doesn't have much a choice, as she can easily imagine Hill banning her from the mission without proper attire. Moreover, after that whole bug episode, she's looking to do a little avenging of her own.

Thankfully, the pants aren't too long on her (she only has to cuff the legs once); the shirt is only slightly tight around the waist and a bit baggy in the chest area. The material is thick enough that the ill fit isn't too obvious, but it's not so bad as to hinder her movements or possibly get her killed. She slips back into her shoes and throws the jacket on over her new ensemble, shoving her old clothes into her bag and wandering out into the living area.

Fewer people are rushing about now, excluding Hill, of course, and she smirks upon seeing the Maximoff boy in the shirt she'd thrust upon him. It shows some miniscule level of trust, at least. The rest of the team wraps up their preparations and Rogers addresses everyone with a final rundown of The Plan. Bruce is going to retrieve Natasha (aka Black Widow, aka everything Hal aspires to be). Rogers, Captain Ladybug, and Stark's main mission is to find Ultron and try to stop him, but they'll tag along with the remaining few evacuating the city and helping civilians until then.

It's not the most glamorous assignment, of course, though Hal doesn't complain; she's just not sure how some weirdo in tights is going to inspire people to vacate the city. Ah, well. She'll find out soon enough.

"Hala." She physically restrains herself from rolling her eyes. Yet again, Momma Hill grasps her arm and pulls her off to the side, while the rest of the Avengers head to the hangar. The woman is staring at her sternly, reminding Hal of her mother when she would come home from a playdate with her shoes covered in mud. " _Please_ play nice."

"I _am_ playing nice," Hal grinds, yanking her arm away.

Hill sighs, rubbing her temples with one hand. "Then play _nicer._ We didn't pull all these strings just to see you end up back in prison – or dead. Whichever comes first."

Hal snorts bitterly. "Then why did you let me out? These weirdoes could do just fine without me; they don't really need me here. Not to mention Stark's already got the electronics division covered, so I'm more of an impediment than an improvement."

Hill considers this for a long moment, staring back into Hal's eyes with just as much ferocity. Hal figures she's going to make up some bullshit speech about her "potential to do good," or some other heroic nonsense. She waits patiently for Hill's expected response, but the answer she gets is rather ironic.

"You're powerful," Hill states honestly. "Especially in today's modern, digital society. If your power were to fall into the wrong hands, it could lead to global disaster, so we'd prefer that you were on our side."

"Why not just keep me locked up then? Less unpredictable, less access to all your secret files, less likely to betray you from inside a cell." Hal lists off the reasons on her fingers. "Hell, flat out killing me would be even easier."

Hill smirks. "Well, that would be such a waste of your _potential_."

"I _despise_ you."

Within thirty minutes, they all pack themselves into a jet – sans those with flying capabilities – and are on their way to Novi Grad, Sokovia. Hill decides last minute to stay behind after conferring with Fury on the phone, which Hal is simultaneously thankful for and mad about. On one hand, no more nagging. On the other, she's now stuck with this band of misfits without any intermediary to help them get along.

Therefore, she tucks herself away in a corner, sitting alone on one of the walls of benches, out of sight. If no one can find her, no one can speak to her and, if no one speaks to her, no one will get angry at her, meaning she might just get out of this relatively unscathed. Thinking her idea sound for now, she browses through the preloaded games on her smartwatch, finally deciding on a game about matching candies. It entertains her for all of thirty minutes, before her investment in the game diminishes as she once again fails level ten.

Sighing in frustration, she nearly jumps out of her skin when she realizes Captain America himself has chosen to grace her with his presence. He stares down at his shield, flipping it in his hands, the hum of vibranium filling the small seating area. She watches with a measure of distrust, remembering the time that shield came flying at her head.

…okay, so maybe he was aiming for the back of her car, but it embedded itself in the headrest of the driver's seat – basically the same thing.

Rogers stops spinning his shield. "Miss Madani –"

"Hal. Just Hal." She is having none of that polite bullshit from a man instrumental in her capture and subsequent imprisonment.

"Um," he clears his throat, "Hal. I realize we never actually…got off on the right foot –"

"You're right," she interrupts again, eyes locked to the screen of her watch. "It's more like we started out on the left foot and then twisted an ankle."

Rogers winces at her analogy. "I guess you could put it that way. But, I just wanted to ask if it's alright if we…try again?"

" _Again?_ " Hal meets his gaze with bewilderment and a disbelieving half-smile. "When was the first time? When Stark shot me in the ass, or when you pinned me to the ground in a chokehold?"

"Look, I understand your anger, but we only did what was necessary," Rogers replies steadily.

Oh. _Oh._ So, he _understands_ does he?

He _understands_ being called vicious names, pushed into the dirt, having his _chador_ ripped away from him while his peers scream into his face to "get out of their country." He _understands_ when the teachers do nothing. He _understands_ what it's like to be so hated for his heritage that he resorts to crime to keep his family alive. He _understands_ what it's like to finally have some financial stability after years of barely scraping by, living off food stamps that the government reluctantly provides. He _understands_ the constant fear that they'll discover him, that they'll take him and his parents away. He _understands_ the fear of being arrested, tortured, and killed because they think your culture and your skin makes you a "terrorist."

He _understands_ the injustice of being jailed by the same bastards that forced him into poverty in the first place.

But Hal says none of this. She only silently fumes, her hands shaking in bundled fists, breath hitched, on the verge of tears. She doesn't say anything because she _can't._ She can hear the voice of her therapist – the one good, ol' Momma Hill assigned to her when Hal refused to speak for the first few weeks of her imprisonment.

This past mistreatment doesn't excuse your current actions, he said. These people know nothing of what you suffered through, and it's not their fault; you must exercise forgiveness to those who are ignorant, and save your anger for those whom truly deserve it.

Easy for him to say. That clunky, gem-encrusted family ring doesn't exactly speak of poverty and disparity. Hal doesn't feel like she owes anyone any sort of apology, or an explanation for her actions; she most certainly doesn't have to justify her oppression to those who've never experienced the same. Nevertheless, she'll have to make some sacrifices in order to get through this in one piece. If she wants them to trust her enough to let her be, then she'll have to bend to their wills.

As always, she thinks bitterly.

Hal breathes in and out slowly, deeply. Rogers watches on in trepidation, clearly expecting her to break into a screaming rage. Thankfully, Hal finds enough control to reign in her tears, fists relaxing as she repeats her therapist's words like a mantra. After a few minutes of this meditation, she raises her head to meet Roger's inquisitive gaze. She tries subtly to wipe away any moisture around her eyes, pretending to cover a cough.

"You don't really understand my anger," she states, skillfully managing the rage boiling beneath the surface, "but…I suppose, since we're a fuckin' team or whatever…you've got plenty of time to learn."

A small smile lifts his lips and he stands, approaching with one hand out, seeking a handshake to seal the deal. Hal sighs heavily and accepts the gesture, squeezing a bit harder than necessary, even though she has no chance of hurting him. The spangled wonder looks immensely proud of himself – or, though Hal loathes thinking it, is he proud of _her?_ She silently curses Hill for giving him access to her files.

"Thank you, Hal," he intones.

"Yeah, yeah, don't get used to it, Rogers." She separates her hand from his and pretends to wipe it on her pants. "I'm only doing this to keep my ass out of the fire."

He gives her a knowing look and she frowns further, heat rising to her cheeks. "Of course."

 _Ugh_ , she hopes he doesn't tell anyone about this….


	6. Chapter 6

**Okayyy, a bit more interaction with the others here. I won't be cataloging the entire battle because, c'mon, we already know what happens. Just bits and pieces that I think are important, that kind of stuff.**

 **P.S. - (self-advert) if u like Criminal Minds, check out my profile for a lil' story I put up :o**

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 **clarkegriffins: I literally fall on my knees and praise the lord when I manage to find a POC oc. It's such a miracle within the fanfiction universe that you just have to stop and really appreciate the bounty that's been brought to your table like AMEN.**

 **wickedgrl123: That's the beauty of this story; it's not just about the romance, but about growing friendships and understanding the hardships of those less fortunate. :')**

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 **Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel, the Avengers, or...anything, really.**

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"Alright, team, we're about ten minutes till touchdown," Rogers starts, drawing everyone's attention, in and outside of the jet. "I need everyone to keep their eyes and ears open. Those of you responsible for evacuation, make sure you stay vigilant for anyone who needs your aid. We've already sent word to Novi Grad, but apparently, some neighborhoods are refusing to leave. The rest of you, continue with your assignments and help those you can along the way."

Hal leans against the wall, watching from a distance as he relays extra orders to the others. She accidentally makes eye awkward contact with Pietro on the other side of the room. It's obvious neither of them were really attempting to catch the attention of the other, since they merely blink confusedly at each other for a few seconds. Her eyes drop down to the dark material of his top, then back to his face.

 _"_ _Nice shirt,"_ she mouths. He just frowns at her. What a wet blanket.

When Rogers finishes his spirit-rousing speech – of which she missed every word – Hal decides to pipe up.

"Are we gonna be debriefed on everyone's cute, little nicknames?" she asks. When Rogers only gives her a confused look, she points to bow and arrows where he sits piloting the aircraft. "'Cause I'm almost 85% positive that this guy isn't Bull's-eye."

"It's Hawkeye," he corrects.

"Close enough."

"Uh, yes, I guess introductions are in order." Rogers briefly clears his throat. "Everyone, this is Hala Madani. She possesses the ability to control electronic devices with her mind – in short, cyberkinesis. Hal, this is, well, everyone."

After a few minutes of uncomfortable greetings, with offensive commentary from Tony as he flies alongside the jet, Hal is finally up to speed with everyone's identities – secret or no. Rogers hands her an earpiece, which she immediately hands back; due to the nature of her cybernetics, using such devices in tandem with her powers often leads to a lot of unpleasant feedback. Somewhat hard to concentrate with a microphone is screeching in her ear. She merely connects with the radio frequency from her watch, with which she is quickly beginning to fall in love.

After this is all over, maybe she'll elope with it.

Laughing quietly at her inner monologue, she makes her way over to the ramp, stretching in preparation of a hard day's work. She's not much of a runner, but if she can hijack one of Ultron's little minions, she'd be able to put its legs to good use. First order of business, however, is to get people moving; hopefully Ultron will lay low long enough for everyone to hightail it out of here. Knowing her luck, he'll probably show up the exact moment that they _don't_ want him to appear.

As she's deciding on whether or not she should just make a break for it, Bruce Banner comes to stand beside her, cleaning his glasses with the edge of his shirt. Hal tries not to make her discomfort known; she really just wants to get this over with as little social interaction as possible, as she knows it won't end well for either party. Unfortunately, she promised Rogers and Hill that she'd at least try to be civil, so she doesn't follow through with her urge to put some distance between her and Banner.

"How are you feeling?" he asks simply. Hal simply stares at him, and he adds, "You know, since the, uh, bug thing."

"Oh, well...good, I guess. My anti-virus hasn't failed me yet." She rubs the back of her neck, fingers automatically ghosting over the small bump above her occipital ridge. "Although, I haven't had my hardware updated in a while, so it's not really up to par."

Bruce tilts his head, eyes watching the movement of her hand. "Is that something you'd need surgery for?"

"Uh, yeah. It's kinda difficult to access my brain from the outside," Hal snarks.

Bruce chuckles slightly, making her realize how nice she's being and heat rises to her cheeks. It's embarrassing how much she's softened in three years. Hal almost killed to keep herself out of prison, yet here she is playing hero with a group of spandex addicts. Prison actually made her _less_ of a hardass – it's ridiculous. She drops her arms and turns away, pretending to do toe touches. He says no more, for which Hal is grateful.

Not even a minute later, the jet begins descending in an empty parking lot, and all of Hal's nerves suddenly sit on edge. She's never much been one for friendliness, so she's not sure how in the world she's going to make these people listen to her. Hal sighs, steadying herself as the ramp lowers to the ground.

She's barely taken a step forward when something whips past her, slapping her with her own ponytail. She scowls at the lingering blue and silver contrails; in the distance, Pietro blows into the nearest police station. The door opens and closes several times, at one point punctuated by the faint spray of bullets, before Hawkeye grabs her by the elbow and personally escorts her off the ship. Geeze. Touchy. She shoots him a sour look. He and Wanda take one direction and, after a moment of standing around, nervous and confused, she runs off down a street that looks fairly crowded.

On an unrelated note, they've left her completely alone, which means they either really trust her, or they have enough of an advantage over her that they know she won't even try to escape. _Shit,_ she realizes. That's why they already had her parents in protective custody; they were going to use them as leverage all along. Even if she'd refused Hill's offer, Hal's parents would've played an integral role in persuading her. Dammit, why is she so dense? This wouldn't be the first time she's jumped the gun, though. That's why she's here in the first place.

"You need to evacuate!" she yells into the crowd. "You're all in danger; you need to evacuate the city, now!"

Some people look up from their phones to glare at her, although most others walk on without giving her much attention. Just as she expected. They're more likely to ignore the foreigner in a silly outfit than heed her word. Or beat her up because they think _she's_ the threat. To be honest, though, if some woman ran up to her in spandex with a story of killer robots planning to send the world into the next ice age, Hal would certainly feel the urge to deck her in the face.

Even so, she can't just give up and let Ultron slaughter a bunch of civilians. There has to be _some_ way to convince them. She scans the crowd, noticing almost every person glued to the screen of their phones, or clustered around TV's in stores and pubs that are broadcasting news about the evacuation happening in other parts of the city. It's worth a shot, she supposes. Closing her eyes and sharpening her concentration, she focuses on all the phones and electronics within a block of her. With one quick breath, she shuts them all off.

"Listen to me!" she tries again. Most of those in the crowd are murmuring to each other, or hitting the TV's they were previously watching as if blunt force trauma will bring the electricity back. However, more have taken to glaring at her, which is a vast improvement from ignoring her altogether. "This isn't a fucking joke. This city's about to be leveled, so you need to get your asses moving!"

One man steps forward. "Is that a threat?"

"It will be if you don't get the fuck outta here," she rises to his challenge, relinquishing her control over everyone's devices. "Now head home, get your shit, and hit the road. Actually, just hit the road. Ultron's not gonna wait around for you to pack the good china."

"Who are you to tell us what to do?" someone at the back of the crowd demands.

"Why the hell does that even _matter?_ If you don't evacuate, you're gonna fuckin' die; what don't you understand about that?"

A sudden explosion of screams sounds from behind her and she whips around, seeing a group of Ultron's minions making their way down the street, grabbing and tossing civilians across the street. Well, that ought to get them running.

"Go!" she yells, pointing in the opposite direction of the robots. "I'll hold them back."

People immediately begin funneling around her, panicking and pushing, and Hal can only hope that the way she's pointed them is clear. Others are piling into cars, attempting to drive away, as Hal shoves her way towards the offenders.

Once within range, she locks on to Ultron's familiar signal and easily worms her way in. He has prepared for her it seems, as a new firewall meets her on the way in, much more formidable than the last. Alas, she's not some simply coded virus. She easily picks her way around it and gains control of the units, though she has a bit of trouble attempting to control seven robots and her own body.

"Okay, this isn't so bad – WHOA, SHIT!" she curses as she trips over the curb.

Her sight alternates between her own vision and the feeds coming from seven cameras at once, unused to such fine levels of control. After a few seconds of fumbling she finally

focuses her vision forward, using her own sight to view the units as they stand perfectly

still with her in the street. Most pedestrians have fled from the scene, save for a bunch of brave – or, idiotic – individuals standing around recording the proceedings on their phones. Shit, she's probably going to go viral looking like a relay contestant that got lost. And drunk.

"Let's see. I'll keep you, big fella." She has one of the most undamaged units step forward, until it stands level with her. The robot's shoulder rises a good foot and a half higher than her own. She makes note of the difference and pats him fondly on the arm. Then Hal returns her attention to the other six. "And the rest of you can take a hike."

Just like that, the rest of the units implode. Hal pulls her new friend to shield her from the bits of hot metal and sparks, cackling quietly to herself at the destruction. That racks her count up to fifteen. She'd like to see Stark do that without his fancy suit.

For a moment, Hal merely stares at her new companion, who does little more than stare back. Briefly, she switches over to view herself from his angle and grimaces at the sight; too bad, there wasn't enough time to get in a shower before the big battle. After her haggard appearance successfully distracts her, she returns to her original train of thought, namely how to block out Ultron from his pawn completely. Sure, she has control of the unit currently, but he'll doubtlessly come to check up on his minions at some point and she wants to make sure this one doesn't up and shoot her in the back.

How does she keep a computer out of a computer? Other than firewall, of course, seeing how easily he can breeze past those – then it comes to her. At first, something of a joke, but then she seriously considers it. Ultron is a super-advanced AI from the distant reaches of space, probably made by some super-advanced alien society. They _have_ to have found a counter-measure for captcha. …right?

Feeling a bit silly, she quickly constructs a simple captcha behind the recoded firewall she's set up against him. If anything, he might find it amusing. Because _that's_ what she's here for. Amusing the bad people. Hal rolls her eyes at herself and gets back to business.

With this area secured for the moment, she turns on the spot, seeing a column of grey smoke billowing up a few streets over, and decides to head that way. "Come on," she says to her new robo-pal, whom follows obediently.


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey, all! Finally got enough time away from the 'rents to finish this chapter. Sorry for such a long absence! It's been a pretty stressful time on my end.**

 **Anyhow, this chapter quickly (and sort of cheaply) tells Hal's side of the battle. I'm not one for long, drawn-out action scenes, so I've stuffed it all into one chapter. Hooray! Tbh, I'm just glad to finally be out of the Ultron story-line. Well, mostly out of it, anyway.**

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 **WARNING: This chapter contains violence and violent descriptors. It also contains choking/asphyxiation. If you think these may trigger you, please do not read this chapter. If you merely want to avoid the choking, skip from the line "Hal peels open her eyes..." to the line "With a resounding squeak..."**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel, the Avengers, or...anything, really.**

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"Go, go, go," she whispers to herself, tucked into an abandoned storefront.

Her eyes are focused somewhere far away, seeing through the optical sensors of her repurposed Ultron unit. She spins it out of the way of a flurry of bullets, turning in midair to fire back at the three other units trailing hers. Obviously, by this point, Ultron's noticed one of his own has gone rogue and – unbelievably – the captcha's actually keeping him at bay. Either that or he's just too overwhelmed at the moment to try.

Two of the enemies on her tail begin smoking and the other bursts into flame. Hal flips back around just in time to avoid crashing into a building, although screaming from a blown-out window draws her attention. She pilots the bot over to the shattered glass, dodging falling bits of steel as she peers inside. Another Ultron unit stands there, aiming a repulsor straight at the head of a cowering young woman, and Hal wastes no time rushing forward.

Her bot grabs the other by the metaphorical scruff of its neck, twists, and tosses the remains of the decapitated unit out the window. The woman sits on the tile floor of what used to be her kitchen, shaking and attempting to make sense of what just happened. A thrill of excitement runs up Hal's spine, because not only has she saved someone's life, but also because she realizes the awesome opportunity she has in this moment.

Accessing the voice control, she inputs a familiar phrase, cackling the whole way. The bot holds out its hand to the woman on her command and its monotone words echo in the relative quiet of the room.

 _"_ _Come with me if you want to live."_

Hal almost bursts into tears she's laughing so hard. Then she remembers where she is and what's going on as the building suddenly shifts, threatening to topple over. Now's not exactly the right time for movie references. The bot swoops forward at her command, scoops up the woman, and jets out the window.

 _"_ _Чекај, чекај!"_ the woman cries, clinging to the metal frame of Hal's robo-pal. _"Моја беба, он је још увек тамо!"_

Quickly popping her words through a translator, Hal curses. She sets the woman down on a relatively sturdy-looking patch of concrete a safe distance away from the collapsing building, and then whips back around to retrieve the woman's son. On the approach, she notices the Hulk burst through one of the lower floors, the apparent catalyst to the structure's demise. Of course.

Hal uses the bot's bio-scanner to check the rest of the building, biting her lip when several other figures pop up on different floors. She won't be able to get to them all in time. Switching back to her own view, she brings her watch up, speaking into it so that the rest of the Avengers can hear.

"Those of you with flying capabilities, I need you over here stat," she says, feeling a little like a soldier and very absurd (but, referencing the Terminator in the midst of a battle is completely normal.) "There's a building coming down and there's several people still inside."

 _"_ _What is your position?"_ Captain Ladybug replies, not missing a beat.

"Just look for the Hulk."

Hal returns to her robo-pal and flies into the apartment she visited previously. She checks each room thoroughly, sighing in relief when she finds him hiding underneath his bed. Without waiting for him to register her as a good guy, she picks him up and bursts through the bedroom window. Captain Ladybug zooms past her, yellow cape flickering in the wind. She twists around to watch the cyborg work, although she's quickly distracted when the units she previously injured return.

They're smoking a little harder than before, and the one with the severely charred exterior is missing an arm. Hal pushes her unit's thrusters to the max, nearly burning them out in attempt to get the kid to safety before her pursuers can open fire. The telltale zap of laser discharge sounds just as her bot swoops around the corner, flinging the kid into Hal's real body. She distractedly wraps her arms around the shaking kid, keeping him from moving while she continues to dodge laserfire from the other robots.

She easily dispatches the one missing an arm and its damaged thrusters accidentally send it spiraling into its friend. The two fly over the ledge not ten feet away in a twisting hunk of burning metal. Hal turns her attention to the last unit, revving up her repulsors, but they sputter out before she can make proper use of them. Her temperature gauge oh-so-helpfully alerts her to her overheated weapons system after the fact. Cursing under her breath, she grabs a loose brick from the crumbling wall to her left, barely dodging the enemy unit's own attacks as she lets it fly.

The brick hits its mark. Aided by the brute strength of the robot unit, the brick snaps the enemy unit's head to the side. It's not dead, but definitely incapacitated as it attempts to shoot her with a wonky targeting system. Easily sidestepping the white-hot beams of light, she grabs the enemy unit by the neck and drops him easily over the edge of the now-floating city.

…wait.

 _"_ _What."_

Hala scans the vicinity quickly and, when she confirms that there are no enemies nearby – and those thunderbolts effectively occupy those whom are – she returns to herself. The child in her arms has clearly gone into shock, quivering with wide eyes and repeating the Serbian word for mother repeatedly to himself. While she can't speak on behalf of his mental health, he's physically fine, aside from a few scrapes and bruises. About the same as herself. Assured that the child's life is in no eminent danger, she creeps out from her shelter and over to the ledge, peering over the newly installed, 100-foot drop.

She knows Ultron is rooting for the end times, but this seems like a pretty convoluted way of going about it. Although, since apparently Stark's previous AI buddy was blocking him from nuclear access codes, this is probably the next best thing. A city-sized meteor will certainly send the right message to the world. And send it into the next ice age, probably.

Hal is not very fond of the cold.

A laser beam zips by Hal's shoulder, causing her to yelp and stumble back from the deadly drop. Almost a dozen bots are rushing her from the other end of the street. She turns on her heel and takes off in a sprint. The enemies' shots hail down all around her, her own bot standing in as an impromptu shield. She can feel her connection with him slowly wearing thin as the laserfire fries his circuits. Hal has just enough time to activate the self-destruct mechanism before the link is completely gone.

The small implosion from behind sends her flying forward, but she turns at the last minute to keep from squashing the boy beneath her. The left legs of her pants tear (subsequently tearing up a good bit of her thigh, as well) and she can feel the sore sting of shrapnel embedded in the bulletproof material of her shirt. Her special garb kept the explosion from being deadly, but she's sure to have bruises if she makes it out of here alive.

Stark, on the other end of the line, says something about gathering at the key, but with a child in her arms and a bunch of bots on her ass, she doesn't have the time to go anywhere. Instead, she grunts, lifting her watch up to her face.

"Kinda busy here, Stark," she growls into the device.

"Aw, your presence will be sorely missed."

"Kiss my ass."

"At least buy me dinner first."

She rolls her eyes and gets to her feet, dodging around flaming piles of scrap metal and crumbled walls. Hal nearly loses her footing when an explosion shakes the earth underneath her, but she throws out a hand to steady herself on a nearby lamppost. Stark's silver counterpart – some guy named Rhodey, if she remembers correctly – flies overhead, vaporizing Ultron's minions in the process. She swears he gestures to her as he passes and she realizes that he's trying to show her the way to safety.

Hal shifts the boy in her arms so that he's clinging to her neck instead of hanging limply in her arms. Rhodey's waiting at the corner for her, clearing the road ahead of her. Peering through the concrete dust and smoke, she can barely make out a group of ships waiting at the edge of the city. Other survivors are already piling in, guided by a few SHIELD agents. Thank god. She thought this whole battle was going to be a game of musical civilians.

The aching of Hal's feet becomes more apparent as she hurries down the street, zipping through rubble and hiding behind cars whenever stray bullets or lasers flew her way. At one point, Rhodey rushed past her, clocking a few bots in the head as they took aim behind her. With no time for thanks, Hal keeps moving. The child in her arms squirms, as if just coming to his senses and begins crying, no doubt calling out for his mother in Serbian. Hal tries to calm him as best she can, but it's difficult trying to be comforting while you're also trying not to die.

Finally, Hal makes it to the intersection where the lifeboats are waiting. The boy's mother spots him just as she's being ushered onto the ship. The woman starts screaming and crying and, for a second, Hal thinks it's because she's relieved to see her son in one piece. Then something smashes into her side and they go flying. The force of the shove sends her skidding into the railing around some building's basement entrance. She curses loudly, gingerly removing her abused back from the iron bars. She'll be lucky if all her vertebrae are still intact after today.

Hal peels open her eyes to spot the bot that'd so rudely pushed her. It's bigger than all the rest, armed with an assortment of lasers, canons, and guarded by a firewall with coding three times as long as she is tall. She sighs. The boy continues to cling to her, even as she attempts to drop him into the basement access where he'll be safe. She's barely pried his fingers from the sleeve of her shirt when something grasps her by the collar. She didn't anticipate that juggernaut to be so fast.

Hal gags as she's swung around and slammed against the wall. Her head knocks painfully against the bricks and she briefly sees stars, but numerous fistfights with prison guards prepared her for this moment. She pushes past the pain to focus on the bot currently holding her captive by her neck, trying to force her way past the firewall, but to no avail. Its fingers tighten around her throat, the anti-materiel rifle on its shoulder aiming precisely on her skull.

"Hal!"

Her attention snaps to Hawkeye, running up to her from the lifeboats. He looks determined to help, but she waves him away. The juggernaut begins to turn to address this new threat and Hal reaches up with a leg to kick it in the face. Its head immediately twists back toward her.

"Get the kid!" she rasps, pointing vehemently into the basement access. "I can…handle this!"

Hawkeye seems to doubt her skills, but does as she instructs, jumping over the railing to retrieve the boy. It shouldn't matter to him, anyway. He barely knows her; her death would be no skin off his nose. With that problem out of the way, she suddenly becomes aware of the deadly pressure on her windpipe.

Again, she tries to break through the firewall, pulling at the juggernaut's massive fingers with all her might. They shift slightly against her force, but she's not strong enough to tug them away completely. At the very least, their shift in position allows her an easier time breathing. She scans its coding as fast as she can, simultaneously fighting gravity and the fingers slowly crushing her trachea. She kicks her legs wildly in an attempt to find purchase on the juggernaut's jagged surface. If she can ease the pain and get blood flow back to her brain, hacking this asshole would be a breeze.

As it is, finding a loophole in the coding and not suffocating has her attention sorely divided.

When she suddenly finds a hole in the firewall – as if the powers that be finally decided to cut her a break – she dives in without preamble, only to find that one half of the bot's controls are stored on a separate server. And, of course, the side she has control of isn't the one choking her. She spits out a curse, sputtering as she reaches up and crushes the anti-materiel rifle on the juggernaut's soldier, ensuring the bot won't be able to use it on her or the lifeboats. The bot's free arm tightens its grip exponentially; Hal's almost surprised that her head doesn't immediately pop off.

She reaches out with the arm under her control and forces the juggernaut to grasp its own neck. It stumbles back at the action, leaving her body hanging without any support whatsoever. Hal wheezes, using her bodily strength to pull herself up, moving the center of the pressure off her neck. Then, with her robot arm, she squeezes, upping the amount of force as quickly as she can without busting the hydraulics. Metal bends and wires snap underneath her hand, the fingers around her own neck tightening to nearly unbearable pressure.

Finally, just as her vision begins to darken, the sound of machine gun fire breaks the relative silence. By some miracle, a stray bullet catches in the hydraulic accumulator of the left arm, causing a small explosion of fluid and oil. The arm clutching her throat drops her all at once and she gasps for air, coughing on hands and knees. She doesn't spend much time watching her life flash before her eyes, instead forcing as much pressure into the juggernaut's right arm as possible.

With a resounding squeak and the tearing of metal, an over-sized head drops to the ground in front of her, quickly followed by the rest of its body. Hal breathes a ragged sigh and struggles to her feet, tilting her face to the sun-brightened clouds, relishing in the fact that she can still do such a thing.

"Hal!"

She turns to see the last of the lifeboats preparing to depart. Hawkeye and Rogers are standing there, the former resting on a bench and the latter waving to her frantically. In her dazed state, she waves back merrily. He looks so silly in that getup. Like the American flag personified, though she supposes that's the point.

For the second time today, something slams into her at high speeds and she swears she feels her spine shift. She regains her senses just in time to black out, barely able to catch herself as the blood returns to her brain and, subsequently, returns her to consciousness. Hal leans against the railing of the lifeboat as it takes off and tries not to barf.

"God damn," she groans, turn to glare at her 'attacker.' Bullets riddle the thick material of his shirt, complimented by a busted lip and bruised temple. "Maybe a little warning next time?"

"You're welcome," Pietro mocks, collapsing into an empty seat.

She watches the wind tousle his hair, trying to convince herself that, yes, the battle is over, yes, they actually won, and, yes, she's still alive. Hal slowly lowers herself to lie face down on the floor, the feel of cold tiles pressing comfortingly to her swelling cheek. She lifts her watch to her mouth with the last of her strength.

"Hey, Hill," she mutters.

"Hal!" Hill responds, sounding almost relieved. Hal merely wonders how many people are going to shout her name to the heavens today. "Are you alight?"

"I took out the trash; now tell me where my parents are."

On the other end, Hill lets out a half-laugh, half-snort, but agrees to meet with Hal once everything's calmed down. Hal lets her head thunk heavily to the floor. Sleep comes to her readily.

Off in the distance, the floating chunk of what was once Novi Grad explodes.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey, all! Wow, it's been a while, hasn't it? I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get back into the swing of things, but I'm just now starting to get a sense of where my life is headed at the moment. For now, I've found enough time and inspiration to crank out another chapter, so here it is for your viewing pleasure! I've no solid timeframe on when the next chapter will be up, but hopefully it will be some time soon.**

 **Also, I apologize in advance for what I know is probably terrible Farsi; I don't speak the language and don't know anyone whom does, so I have to rely on online dictionaries and translators. I'm also very confused about the use of punctuation in Farsi, as I've seen conflicting accounts of it's usage from multiple sources. If any readers out there speak Farsi, please PM me and help me make this as correct as possible! For now, just a tiny phrase: از حد معمول آرامتر! meaning, "Slow down!"**

 **Thank you for your patience and your continued support! It really means the world! :)**

 **(P.S. - The small bit of Serbian that Pietro says - the word "sister" - is meant to be italicized as I do with all non-English languages, but I couldn't do that without actually changing the letters for some reason? Idk, but I italicized the quotation marks so... *shrugs*)**

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel, the Avengers, or...anything, really.**

* * *

"Oh my god," Hal groans shifting to push herself up on her elbows in her bed. The TV positioned in front of her is blasting some shitty news network, with three 'specialists' attempting to shout their opinions overtop of one another. "Shut the _fuck_ up."

In her half-asleep state, it takes her awhile to tap into the TV's controls, so she has the joy of hearing one man say, "Well, _I_ think it _is_ an issue! The FBI incarcerated Madani for wiring money to shadow organizations in the black market – not to mention she's from the Middle East, which certainly speaks for –"

Hal finally manages to switch off the TV right in the middle of the loudmouth's rant. "I was born in Chicago, asshole."

Not the most pleasant thing to wake up to, but not the worst she's experienced, either. Hal sits up, stretching out her sore muscles. She's been resting at a private clinic for the past couple of days; besides a few bruised ribs and vertebrae, she's generally just recovering her energy. Hill assured her that the clinic is completely private and no reporters or paparazzi are aware that the Avengers are recovering here. So far, her claims have held true, though whether because of secrecy or physical aid from the government, Hal is unsure.

It's good to find some kind of peace and privacy after three years of constant surveillance. Hal feels the need to dance, or sing at the top of her lungs, but the nurses would probably think her dying and rush to help. As it is, she slides out from under the covers – noting the time as two in the afternoon – and throws on the nearest clean set of clothes. She then tugs on a jacket and heads out the door, running her fingers through her hair in a half-hearted attempt at tidying it up.

When she reaches the cafeteria, the dark mop atop her head is in even greater disarray than when she awoke. Ah, well. Not as if she's here to impress anyone, anyway. She already has a job, and a relationship is the furthest thing from her mind at the moment; even if there were any attractive options available here, she's still too busy plotting ways to sneak out from under SHIELD's thumb.

Unfortunately, with her parents' lives hanging in the balance, she's having a bit of trouble figuring it out. Even just acting up and causing a ruckus among the team members would be too risky. Fury _basically_ has them hostage and is dangling them over Hala's head as bait. Although she's not too sure he would stoop to such lows just to keep her in the Avengers, she doesn't want to take the chance. One wrong move and SHIELD could have them hidden away, lock Hal back in the brig, or worse. She sighs deeply, taking a plastic tray as she queues up with the rest of the hungry.

Hal really didn't think this 'deal' through. The prospect of freedom was too enticing for her to resist, not to mention that Hill's urgency when they were discussing the matter made Hal equally as excited. Perhaps she should get a sidekick – someone to do all the thinking, so that she can put those thoughts into action. It would ruin her lone wolf image for sure, but that's already been severely tarnished by her alliance with the Star-Spangled Wonder and his jolly crew.

Hal would have dwelled on such topics a bit longer, but a sudden tap on her shoulder startles her from continuing. She whirls in place, coming face-to-face with the Sokovian woman – whom she's now come to know as Wanda. Wanda smiles demurely at Hal, and she tries to return the gesture. It comes out more like a grimace.

"Hal, it's good to see you finally up," Wanda says, accent lacing her words with an eclectic twist. "Everyone has been worried over your health."

Not worried enough to visit, apparently. Hal winces when Wanda frowns and remembers that the woman can read minds, so there was no use in keeping her insensitive thoughts secret. "I mean, it's not like I really cared if you all visited or not – well, shit, that doesn't sound any better, does it?"

Wanda, realizing Hal's struggle to socialize effectively, merely giggles. "It is alright, Hal."

"It's just…the first thing that popped into my head, I guess." The best defense is a good offense, after all, and Hal's offense just happens to be constant sarcasm. She clears her throat and tries to think up a good topic to discuss, though the only thing she can think about is how awkward she feels. The friendly, calm atmosphere here is much different from the hectic environment under which they first met. "Uh, so…how are you feeling, then?"

Hal cringes again. A very stupid question to ask someone who's home country Ultron nearly destroyed, and the capitol of which he totally destroyed. Sensing her thoughts yet again, Wanda soothes Hal's worries with a wave of her hand.

"I'm feeling fine. Luckily, I didn't take a lot of hits during the battle." Wanda holds up her arm, proudly displaying a scraped-up elbow. "This was the worst of the damage."

"Well, that's good," Hal states. When Wanda's eyes drift down to Hal's throat, she attempts to zip up her hoodie discreetly, hiding her own injuries. As soon as she does, however, she realizes it's a lost cause, since one can't easily hide anything from Wanda. The woman says nothing to Hal as the line moves forward, but she can feel Wanda's eyes practically burning holes into the back of her neck. Finally, Hal coughs lightly. "The bruises don't hurt much, anymore. They just look ugly."

"They're nothing to be ashamed of."

Hal raises her eyebrow at the woman. "Actually, I was trying to cover them up so _you_ wouldn't feel bad."

"What do you mean?" Wanda inquires, looking genuinely confused.

Hal realizes that perhaps she can't fully read thoughts; merely interpret feelings and images – sort of like a medium. But a bit more reliable. "I was hurt doing…well, my duty, I guess. I'm proud of my scars and injuries. I just don't want anyone seeing them and pitying me for it. It's irritating."

Wanda nods her head in silent understanding. The two bask in the uncomfortable aftermath of _that_ conversation as they continue through the line. Once Hal has a plate full of food, she moves to take a seat at the empty table in the farthest corner, hoping to draw the least suspicion from such a spot. It even has a lovely view of the nearby lake. It's only after she carefully lowers her aching body into the padded chair does she notice that Wanda has followed.

Somewhat suspicious, Hal eyes her while she seasons her food, but accepts her presence nonetheless. There's no reason for Wanda to want to harm Hal. At the very least, she can't think of any reasons. Unless Wanda's personally offended by Hal's slight alteration of her brother's wardrobe, though she can't imagine why the woman would be.

"Oh, that reminds me." Evidently, Hal's inner triad was not as private as she thought. Hal waits for Wanda to swallow her food. "I wanted to thank you for your input before the battle. On Pietro's shirt."

"Oh, yeah, it was nothing," Hal practically mutters, embarrassed. "I just wanted someone else to suffer wearing that uncomfortable shit, too. Plus – I dunno – it seemed stupid. Like, why go into battle in nothing more than spandex."

"You were going to go in sweatpants and a tank top."

"Hey, don't make this about me."

 _"_ Cестра. _"_

Hal nearly jumps out of her skin. The topic of their conversation appeared next to their table in less time than it took Hal to blink. She blinks several more times, just to confirm that his presence is real and not some mere hallucination. Then, seeing the smug look he throws her way, she frowns, grunting as she shoves a spoonful of potatoes into her mouth. It's cool being the only super-powered individual in the vicinity; gives you an edge, a sense of authority whenever you walk into a room. It's less cool when there are others and they use their powers to make a fool of you.

She ignores the rest of their conversation, seeing how she can't understand any of it. Well, she could if she used an online translator, but even thinking about such an effort makes her tired. Hal stifles a yawn while reaching for her glass of water, chugging half of it in order to wash down the starchy substance gathering in her throat. It reminds Hal of when she was younger and practically inhaled her food just to join her friends at the arcade as quickly as possible. Her father would always yell at her – "از حد معمول آرامتر!" and force her to thoroughly chew each bite as punishment. Faiza would laugh as Aamir timed the interval between bites with his watch and Hal whined when her father refused to hurry up even after she finished chewing. The memory makes her smile, although Wanda's voice snaps her out of her thoughts.

"Hal, do you mind if my brother has lunch with us?"

Although Pietro appears as if he would want nothing more than to do the _opposite_ , Hal agrees, seeing how she was the one to extend an invitation of friendliness to them in the first place. She can imagine the man has a hard time trusting people after all the betrayals he and his sister have suffered through, part of the reason she feels such a connection to them in the first place. Their situations may have been different, but the result is the same; Hal can spot her fellow bitter assholes a thousand miles away. She's just not sure how Wanda turned out so kind. Probably a psychic thing.

In response to Wanda's question, Hal shrugs nonchalantly. "Won't bother me any."

One painfully short pause later finds Pietro sitting across from Hal, beside his sister, a tray full of food sat in front of him. He wastes no time digging in and dutifully ignores the cyberkinetic's presence entirely. Hal nearly does the same, but Wanda gives a tiny jerk of her head in his direction, giving her a meaningful look. Internally, Hal groans as she struggles for something to say to Pietro.

Maybe all this playing nice crap isn't worth it. Sure, Wanda seems onboard with it, but her brother couldn't be any less interested in forming a partnership with her, and twins usually come as a package deal. She's half-tempted to ignore Wanda's gesture in favor of winning whatever battle of wills she's apparently initiated with Pietro. However, Hal knows she'll feel guilty later if she doesn't at least _try._

She resolves to say the first thing that comes to mind –

"So, how's life in the fast lane?"

– and immediately regrets the decision. The glare Pietro sends her synchs up perfectly with Wanda's heavy sigh. Seems someone's sense of humor is a little lacking. Ass.


End file.
